


Put on a Mask (and Fight!)

by writeonclara



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-19 17:47:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5975830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeonclara/pseuds/writeonclara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn is the defector gone superhero. Rey is the ultra psychic who may or may not use her powers to hustle pool. Poe is the intrepid journalist (or sometimes: bait). Together, they fight crime!</p><p>(Or Finn and Rey do. Poe mostly gets himself kidnapped and mouths off at his captors. It's a work in progress.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the tfa_kink prompt: _I would love it if Finn was the hero with a dark past and questionable morals, Poe was the charming and intrepid journalist trying to figure him out, and they kind of fall in love along the way._

“Hey.”

Finn looked up from where he was fiddling with BB-8, the BB astromech android prototype, v. 8. Rey, aka Force, aka _The One_ , depending on who you asked, was peeking at him from around the door. “Have you turned on the news recently?”

That was never a good question. Finn wheeled his computer chair across his bedroom to peer at the old tube TV in their family room. It needed an upgrade -- Mr. Solo had given it to them as a housewarming gift two years ago -- but being a superhero wasn't exactly a lucrative business. The talking head on the TV looked especially grim, her perfect eyebrows furrowed in almost comical concern.

“ _\-- Poe Dameron, reporter for the New Republic newspaper the Rapier Daily Press, has been kidnapped. The First Order has released this video._ ”

The screen flashed to a dingy room with no windows. A spotlight highlighted a familiar curly haired man tied to a chair. He was slumped forward, head bowed, but a moment later he looked up.

“ _So_ ,” Poe said, flashing his usual devastating grin at the camera. One cheek was flushed pink, as if he'd been recently hit. “ _Who should talk first?_ ”

Something happened off camera that made Poe’s eyes widen, then narrow. “ _I told you I wouldn’t -- right._ ” He scowled. “ _This message is for the First Order defector. Kylo Ren wants to have a chat, though between you and me, buddy, I wouldn’t bother --”_

The video cut out and back to the enormously concerned news anchor. Rey hit the mute button, then turned back to Finn, one eyebrow raised.

Finn groaned, sliding one hand down his face. “Great.”

* * *

The thing about Finn was: he wasn't always a superhero. There was a Before. Before he was Rebel, the newest masked crusader to hit the streets. Most superheroes had a Before. It was practically a part of the job qualifications: must have a compelling origin story. Bonus points if it was Extra Mysterious.

Finn’s origin story was -- different.

No one asked him about it. Well, everyone asked him at first, but after the first seven times of leaping onto the nearest roof and running off into the sunset, no one asked anymore.

No one besides Poe Dameron, that is.

“Rebel!”

Finn groaned and looked up at the building he was standing by. It would be a stretch, but he could probably make it to the roof. Poe was sprinting down the street, dodging around people and, for one alarming moment, a bus -- and Finn tensed, preparing to save the ridiculous reporter _again_ \-- when he popped up from behind a stoop backed elderly lady. Poe managed not to bowl her over, though she still smacked him with her purse on principle. Poe grinned apologetically, but didn't stop until he was well in Finn’s personal space.

“Mr. Dameron,” Finn said, adopting his usual British accent. “What can I help you with?”

Poe was a little flushed from his mad dash after Finn. “Do you have a couple minutes to chat? Maybe over a cup of coffee -- or can be super informal, if that would make you more comfortable.”

There were times requests for interviews sounded a lot like asking a guy out on a date. Finn cleared his throat and took a half step back. “Sorry, mate. Got things to do. In fact, I think I hear someone getting mugged.”

“You have super hearing?” Poe asked, excited.

“Uh, yeah.” Finn did not have super hearing. He maybe had above average hearing, according to Rey, who he always caught sneaking his chips, no matter where she was in their apartment.

“Wow,” Poe said, a little starry eyed.

“Yeah, so,” Finn said, taking another step back.

“Right,” Poe said. His smile dimmed slightly. “Maybe another time?”

And, because Finn was completely hopeless, he nodded and said, “Sure, yeah. I'd love to.” Which was incredibly stupid, but Poe’s grin went back up in wattage and, well, Finn was pretty much fucked, anyway.

* * *

That had been two days ago. Now, apparently, Poe was tied up in some warehouse or basement. Again. Being a reporter, Poe was always sticking his perfect nose where it didn't belong. Being Poe Dameron, he was always caught. He had a fast mouth and could talk his way out of things about 60% of the time, but it appeared this would be the other 40% of the time.

“How the hell did he get himself caught by _the First Order_ ,” Finn asked, panicked.

Rey shot him a sympathetic look. “I can take care of this alone, if you want.”

Rey was one of the few who knew about Finn’s history, but that was more because she was an ultra powerful psychic, and less because Finn had been in a sharing mood. And hadn't that been an awful two weeks in the early days. She hadn't liked his dubious background as much as he hadn't liked her crawling around in his fucking head. They got past it, though; these days, they worked as partners as often as they worked alone.

“They want me,” Finn said, clenching his jaw. They hadn't specifically asked for Rebel, because the First Order was, thankfully, run by a bunch of dumbasses, but that was just semantics.

“No, they want FN-2187. They have no idea who Rebel is, because they are a bunch of dumbasses.”

Finn slanted a suspicious look at her. “Are you reading my mind?”

Rey grinned. “No, they are just that dumb. You call yourself _Rebel_.”

Finn swatted at her. In a gross abuse of her powers, she made him smack his own arm.

“Anyway,” Finn said, rubbing his arm. “I won't say no to you tagging along -- ”

“‘Tagging along,’” Rey repeated, offended. “What am I, your sidekick?”

“But I'm going.”

He didn't want to. Every fiber of his being strained away from the First Order; he'd even considered leaving the country when he first got out, despite Rey’s protests. But this was Poe, and Finn had no good judgement when it came to Poe.

“Fine, fine,” Rey said, flapping a dismissive hand. “I didn't think you'd trust just anyone with your boyfriend, anyway.”

“He's not my boyfriend,” Finn spluttered.

* * *

Poe probably didn’t remember this, but when he first met Finn, it wasn't that time Finn had rescued Poe from a vengeful Phasma as Rebel, but actually from a First Order hideout, two years ago. Back when he'd just been FN-2187. There had been a commotion at Starkiller (the First Order had the goofiest names for their hideouts): apparently, Poe Dameron, sweetheart of the Rapier Daily Press, had stumbled right into the waiting arms of a handful of Troopers. He’d had a lead, information about the Big Three Kylo Ren had desperately wanted. FN-2187 had caught a glimpse of Poe through a dirty window, teeth shiny red with blood, grinning right in Kylo Ren’s face and not giving a single inch.

So FN-2187 broke him out.

_“FN-2187? That's a mouthful. I'll call you Finn.”_

They'd stolen a motorcycle, something that Poe had insisted he could drive (he really couldn't. Finn had _scars_.) and had ridden until Poe crashed the damn thing and had knocked them both out. When Finn woke up again, Poe was gone.

Poe had been the first person Finn hadn't been able to save. It was actually kind of funny; he’d hated the First Order in a vague sort of way for taking away -- everything -- but it was Poe's death that made him don a cape and mask.

Except -- Poe hadn’t been entirely dead.

The next time Finn saw Poe, Poe was a reporter who lived for superhero scoops, and Finn was -- a superhero.

He still wasn't quite sure how _that_ happened.

* * *

“Hey,” Rey murmured, crowding up to Finn’s side. He dutifully handed her the binoculars he’d been using to scan the building across the street. They’d narrowed down Poe’s possible location to a seedy warehouse by the docks. It was -- not encouraging.

“What’s the word?” Finn asked as Rey scanned the warehouse in a desultory manner. She could sense way more without bothering with her eyes.

“Three Troopers at the front door; four in the back, having a smoke. All armed to the teeth. The place is crawling.”

“But?”

Rey lowered the binoculars. “No Kylo Ren.”

“Maybe he stepped out?” Finn said, hesitantly.

“Possibly,” Rey said, dubiously. “Or it’s a trap.”

“It’s always a trap,” Finn sighed.

Rey lifted the binoculars again, tilting the them down to examine the front. “Storm the front?”

“Storm the front.”

The benefit of having super strength and a dubious relationship with physics was that Finn was, for all intents and purposes, a one man army. Rey was even better, tearing off the doors to the warehouse with little more than a jerk of her chin. The Troopers had frozen in shock long enough for Finn to grab two of them by their necks and crack heads together, and for Rey to send the third sailing through the air.

“Poe’s down that hallway,” Rey said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. “You grab him. I’ll keep these jokers at bay.”

Like Finn, Rey chose to cover her entire face. (“It’s ridiculous,” she once told him, “that people think they can keep their secret identity secret by only covering half their faces -- or worse, just their eyes.”) But even with her face hidden with her thick scarf and her dark goggles over her eyes, Finn could tell she was worried.

“Be safe,” Finn said, bumping her shoulder affectionately with his.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ve got this,” Rey said, stretching her arms out. He could hear the grin in her voice, even as he turned away to sprint down the hall.

In retrospect, he probably should have asked if Rey knew exactly where Poe was. He’d just slammed into a room, one hand holding the door open, the other gripping the doorframe. A roomful of white and black masks stared back at him.

“Uh,” Finn said. He shut the door again.

Well, crap.

He made it halfway down the hall before the door burst open again and five Troopers tumbled out. A phaser shot blasted into the wall way too close to Finn's head and he belatedly ducked, plaster and metal raining down on his cowl. He ducked into another room which, thankfully, was Trooper free. Even better, the back wall was lined with several stacks of wooden crates.

The first Trooper to round the corner and into the room got a crate to the face.

Finn dove after him, snatching up the Trooper’s gun. The Trooper scrambled after him, but Finn was faster; he slammed the butt of the gun into the back of his head. The Trooper went down, hard, the back of his helmet shattered.

The next three Troopers were easy to pick off with the help of the gun and a couple more crates. The fifth Trooper never appeared. Finn didn’t have time to worry about that; he stepped over the fallen Troopers to run back down the hall.

He finally found Poe in one of the loading bays at the end of the warehouse. Poe was slumped forward in his chair, and for one terrible moment Finn was certain he was dead. Then he lifted his head and grimaced a smile at Finn.

“Knew you’d -- come,” Poe said, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth.

“You look like shit,” Finn hissed, hurrying forward. One side of his face was completely mottled purple now, and half his hair was matted with blood. Finn compartmentalized his instinctive panic. Poe’d look way worse if he didn't move.

“Glad to -- see you too,” Poe laughed his way into a cough. “Ah, _shit_. I hate -- those bastards.”

“I have no idea how you still manage to talk so much when you’ve been beat half to death,” Finn grumbled, tearing away the rope.

“I bet you’re -- so hot under that -- mask,” Poe murmured. Finn actually paused. He drew back to stare at Poe’s face. Poe grinned lopsidedly at him. “Pretty sure they dosed me with something.”

“Truth serum?” Finn hedged.

Poe shrugged. “Ma-aybe,” he sang.

“Well that’s just great,” Finn said.

“It really, really isn’t,” Poe said, eyebrows furrowing very seriously. Then he was all smiles again. “But it’s okay, because I _really_ like you.”

By the time Finn made it back to Rey, with Poe curled up against his chest in the bridal style Poe so very much liked to make fun of in his articles, Poe had already waxed poetic about: Rebel’s arms, Rebel’s ass, and Rebel’s dark and mysterious persona. Finn was desperately glad for his full-face mask. He was pretty sure he was burning up from all the praise. Maybe all those invitations for informal interviews _were_ Poe asking him out for a date.

“We have got to move,” Rey said, when Finn rounded the corner with Poe. She was surrounded by half a dozen fallen troopers.

“What’s wrong?” Finn asked. There was an odd thundering sound coming from down the other end of the warehouse.

“Run now, questions later,” Rey snapped, bolting towards the door.

“And your voice,” Poe mumbled dreamily as Finn and Rey pelted out of the warehouse, Finn supporting Poe’s head with one hand in his dark curls. Behind them, a river of white and black masks streamed out of the warehouse. “Don’t get me started on your voice. All deep and sexy, like you’ve just been fucking -- ”

“Up!” Finn shouted, frantically. He freed one hand to grab Rey around her waist and bounded up to the roof of the apartment complex across from the warehouse. Behind them, phaser shots blasted up dirt and concrete. There was a searing, burning pain on his upper thigh and he fumbled his landing, nearly sending all three of them spilling to the rooftop.

“You okay?” Rey demanded, pulling away from him.

“Just a flesh wound,” Finn said, pressing his free hand against his leg.

Poe’s head popped up. “They hurt you? Those sons of bitches. I’ll kill them!”

“Shh!” Finn hissed. Below them, the Troopers were shouting to each other. The apartment rattled ominously.

“We should stick to the roofs. It’s dark enough that they shouldn’t be able to see us,” Rey said, frowning at Finn’s leg. “Think you can handle the run?”

“Let’s move.”

Poe started up his litany about all of Rebel’s amazing qualities as soon as he was sure Finn wasn’t dying, and while Rey was completely silent outwardly, Finn could hear her mental cackling. It was weird, and probably unhealthy, to be jealous about someone who was essentially yourself.

The thing was, Finn, like half the nation, sort of had a hopeless crush on Poe.

It was this hopeless crush that made Finn mutter, several blocks later and without any input from his brain, “What about Finn?”

“Who?” Poe asked, and Finn winced under his mask. Of course Poe didn’t remember the Trooper he’d named all those years ago. But then Poe was grappling at Finn’s chest as if searching for purchase, and Finn was forced to stop or drop them all down an ally. Poe grabbed Finn by his cape and hauled himself up, eyes wide and a little wild. “Did you say _Finn_? As in FN-2187?”

“Yeah?” Finn said, uncertainly. It had been a long time since someone used that designation for him.

“He’s _alive_?”

Oh, _shit_.

Finn stared at Rey from over Poe’s head. She was staring back at him, and even though her face was completely covered, he knew she looked just as shocked as he felt. Poe tugged at Finn’s cape. “Please tell me.”

“Finn’s alright,” Rey responded for him, since Finn was too busy feeling like the world’s biggest jerk to say anything at all. It had been two years. Poe thought he’d been dead for _two years_. “He’s been an informant for the Resistance these past couple of years.”

“Oh, thank God. I tried finding him, but --” Poe said. He was blinking rapidly, eyes wet, and Finn cringed. “I thought -- he was captured and --” Suddenly, Poe’s face split into a wide, beautiful grin. “If it isn’t too much to ask, can you let him know that Poe’s looking for him?” He paused, eyebrows furrowing again. “Wait, does that sound creepy? Maybe just tell him I’m glad he’s not dead. Or is that morbid?”

“Tell you what,” Rey interrupted, mercifully putting an end to Poe’s way too endearing stumbling and Finn’s growing embarrassment. “Why don’t you meet him for breakfast this weekend? 10 a.m. at _Pow!_ I’ll let him know.”

“Really?” Poe said, turning his wide eyes on Rey. “You’d do that?”

“Of course!” Rey said, brightly. “He owes you for letting you think he’s been dead all this time,” she added, sternly. As if Finn would say no.

“That would be great,” Poe gushed, looking like he wanted to hug Rey. “That’s fantastic! _Thank_ you. Did you know that he risked everything to save my life? Finn is _amazing_.”

Poe spend the next two blocks singing _Finn’s_ praises. Finn didn’t know what to do with that, since he was sort of the worst person in the whole world.

* * *

“There's a young sando terrorizing the bay,” Finn said, poking his head out of his bedroom. Rey was sprawled out on their old brown couch, BB-8’s ridiculous instruction manual open and thus taking over the coffee table, most of the couch, and half of Rey. Finn had no idea why they didn't just put the manual in a book or a on a data chip like everyone else did.

“Finn.”

“It’s not too big, but it's already killed four fishermen.”

“ _Finn_ ,” Rey scowled up from the mess of paper. BB-8 whirred and beeped cheerfully at her from somewhere under the manual. “I can handle the bloody sando. If you don't leave for _Pow!_ right now, I'll mind whammy you and drag you there myself.”

“Okay, okay,” Finn said, raking his hand over his hair. He turned back to his bed, where half the contents of his closet were strewn across his rumpled comforter. “Rey!”

“What!”

“What should I wear?”

“Are you serious?” Rey shouted, but she stalked into his room to frown at him. BB-8 rolled after her, swaying a little unsteadily and trailing the manual after it like its own cape. At least it was actually moving now. Finn had been worried it was another defective unit, like the first seven. “It's not like you're going on a date, Finn. Just throw on a pair of jeans at a shirt.”

Finn stared forlornly at his bed. Nothing he had seemed quite right. He couldn't exactly put on a suit to go to _Pow!_ , but he sort of wanted to anyway. BB-8 trundled up to his bed, whirring speculatively at the clothing. It listed to one side. Finn reached over to straighten it again. Maybe a button up? Would that still be too formal?

“Unless,” Rey said, slowly, “it _is_ a date.”

“No?” Finn said, uncertainly.

Rey sighed, then snatched up a soft grey henley and his favorite pair of jeans. She thrust them forward and gave him her sternest look. “Wear these. You'll be fine; I'm pretty sure Poe is already halfway in love with you, anyway.”

“He’s not,” Finn insisted, though it seemed weak even to his own ears. After the warehouse -- well, it was never good to speculate.

Rey looked like she’d reached her max capacity of bullshit for the day. She wadded up his clothing and chucked it at his chest. “You keep telling yourself that, hotshot. Get dressed and get out. And for crying out loud, don’t worry about the sando. I got it, alright?”

* * *

Finn wasn’t a huge fan of _Pow!_ It was the kind of place that capitalized on superheroes, decorating their walls with art that teetered on copyright infringement. Rey _knew_ he hated the restaurant, which meant she was punishing him for being a dick to Poe, even if it was unintentional.

Exhibit A for why he hated _Pow!_ stood right near the door: a life-sized cardboard cutout that looked suspiciously like _him_. It was in his midnight blue costume and black cape, arms akimbo and had a speech bubble hovering over his masked face saying, “Please wait to be seated.”

That was new. Finn wondered if he would get kicked out for punching the cutout’s face off.

“Finn!” Poe shouted from the other side of the restaurant, attracting roughly everyone's attention. He flung himself out of his chair, knocking it over, and crashed right into Finn's chest, grabbing him up in a hug that might have cracked a couple of ribs if Finn were anyone else. Finn had no other choice but the wrap his arms around Poe and laugh with him, brimming with vicarious relief and happiness.

“Look at you,” Poe said, voice still overly loud in his excitement. He pulled back to examine Finn, face lit up in a bright grin that also looked a bit stunned. “You look great.” His eyes seemed to stutter over Finn’s chest, before he glanced back up at his face. “Really great, seriously. Wow.”

“What about you?” Finn said, furrowing his brow. It was hard not to adopt his British accent, considering it was the voice he always used when he talked to Poe. It was even harder trying to keep his stories straight and separate. “I heard what happened! Are you okay?”

Poe scratched at the bruise on his cheek self consciously, still grinning. “Ah, this? It's nothing.” Poe glanced around, as if just noticing that most the customers were watching with voyeuristic interest. “Come on, let's sit.”

He led Finn to a corner booth at the back of the restaurant. “You have no idea how relieved I was to hear that you were alive, man,” Poe said, sitting down.

Finn slid into the booth across from him, grimacing slightly. “Yeah, I am so sorry about that. I guess I hadn't realized you thought I was dead.”

Poe waved a hand dismissively. “It's okay, don't worry about it! It's not like you knew how to get in contact with me. Or -- anything about me, for that matter. I'm just glad you're alive.”

Finn was seriously the worst. He opened his mouth to, what, explain? when the waitress sidled up to the table, playing with one long strawberry blonde curl. She smiled brightly at Poe. It looked like she'd applied a layer of lipstick just to take their order. “What will you boys be having today?”

Poe flashed his usual charming grin and Finn could see the moment she fell madly in love. He turned his instinctive snort into a cough, but Poe still slanted a knowing look at him and his grin went a little sly. “I'll have a Nova Lox bagel,” Poe said, holding his menu out.

“Better make that two,” Finn said, busting out his own charming grin. It seemed to have more of an effect on Poe than it did the waitress, what with the way he dropped the menu. That was -- interesting.

“So tell me,” Poe said, clearing his throat, as the waitress hurried off. He rested his arms on the the table and leaned forward, eyes intent. “The last time we saw each other, you had just bust out of the Super Trooper program. What have you been doing with yourself, aside from -- you know?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“I --” Finn had no idea how to answer that question. Being a superhero didn't actually leave a lot of time for a day job. He couldn't exactly tell Poe that he and Rey barely made rent and that they depended on Rey abusing her powers to hustle pool for a monthly income. Finn didn't regret his new life for a second, nor did he feel an ounce of shame, but he couldn't exactly explain it. “I've just been doing odd jobs here and there.”

“It must have been so hard,” Poe said, eyes soft.

It had been, but probably not in the way Poe thought. Getting your ass handed to you by a pissed off Rey was never fun. He smiled and shrugged. “I got by.”

“I see that,” Poe said. Then he dropped his eyes to the table, fiddling with his napkin. “I wondered about you, you know. After. I’d hoped --”

Poe was interrupted by the building jolting so hard that it felt like the entire room shifted to the right. People screamed and tumbled to the ground, scurrying under tables, rained on by cups of hot coffee and steaming food. Poe shot to his feet, gripping the edge of the table.

“What the hell was that?” Poe demanded, scrambling to one of the windows. The man really did have the self preservation skills of a lemming. Finn made to follow when his phone vibrated with a new text. He pulled it out from his pocket, and then groaned.

_I did not actually have the sando_

Poe was pressed against the window, cellphone out to take a video recording of the giant sando lumbering down the street. Finn took a step back, then ducked into the kitchen, pulling up Rey’s phone number as the cooks rushed passed him to see what was going on in the restaurant.

“ _A little busy here, Rebel!”_ Rey yelled into the phone, followed by a loud crash.

“I thought you said you had this,” Finn hissed back, looking around until he found the back door.

“ _I did! I just didn’t realize this was the type of sando that could walk around on land._ ” Something exploded in the background and Rey cursed vividly.

“Force! Are you alright?”

“ _I'm fine! Backup’s on the way. Go back to your date, I'll see you later. Gotta go!”_

Finn let out a frustrated noise and shoved his phone back into his pocket. Who did she have coming for backup? Finn was the only backup in town. He ducked between the two buildings, next to where the food scraps were apparently dumped, oh god, sometimes being a superhero was so gross. He dug the capsule that had his mask and cape and popped it open, then frowned. His cape was missing.

“Damn,” he muttered, remembering. His cape was air drying in the bathroom. He rolled his eyes at himself and pulled on his cowl, yanking his clothes off quickly, then shoved them into the capsule and took off into a dead run towards the street.

Rey was stalking behind the sando as it lumbered down the street, exuding such a frustrated air that it, literally, surrounded her.

“It can shrug off my psychic attacks,” Rey admitted, when Finn caught up to her. “How was your date?”

“Is now really the time?” Finn asked.

Rey turned to the sando. It continued on its lugubrious way, completely unbothered by the two superheroes trailing after it. “This thing isn't going anywhere soon. So?”

Finn huffed. “For all the ten minutes I was on it? Great.”

Rey cocked her head to the side. “I think you're being sarcastic.”

“No, I mean, he really was great,” Finn said, with a small sigh that was a little dreamy.

“You are going to be so gross, aren't you.”

Finn glared. “Anyway, shouldn't we do something with the giant monster, or would you like to discuss my nonexistent love life?”

“Alright, alright.” Rey examined the back of the sando, arms akimbo. It made Finn remember the cutout. Maybe they really did have an MO. “It looks like you're gonna need to muscle your way through this one.”

“Right,” Finn said, eyeing the sando with some trepidation. “I got this.”

“Unlikely.”

Finn turned to see Luke Organa step out from between two buildings, sans spandex, but plus a hooded cloak and shaggy beard, then whirled around on Rey. “You called Skywalker? For a _sando_?”

“I told you backup was on the way,” Rey said, defensively.

The Big Three had retired over a decade ago, with strict instructions not to be bothered unless things got really desperate. Especially Leia and Han, who had both hung up their capes after the disappearance of their son, two decades ago.

A sando plodding through downtown was hardly desperate.

“Never mind,” Luke said, waving his bionic hand. “Here. I'd been meaning to give this to you two, anyway. _Don't_ break it, please.”

He handed over his _goddamn iconic saber_ and for a moment Finn just stared blankly at him, gripping the sword in one hand. Luke smiled at him, face half-hidden in his hood.

“I don't know how to use this!” Finn shouted, panicked, but Luke had already disappeared back into the shadows.

“Hack and slash?” Rey suggested, unhelpfully.

For a moment Finn just stared down at the blue blade. Then he shrugged, said, “Okay,” and flung himself at the sando, saber raised.


	2. Chapter 2

“Huh.” Finn tossed the saber into the air and caught it by the hilt. So that was actually pretty useful. He may have looked more like a lumberjack hacking away at a fallen tree instead of a swordsman, but it got the job done. Finn pressed the button on the side of the hilt, and the blade disappeared. He pressed it again, and it shot forward. Handy.

“Gross,” Rey said, sidling up to Finn side. “I do not envy whoever has cleanup duty.”

Finn glanced down the street, wrinkling his nose. He felt a little bad, but then again he had just saved the city, again. Let someone who actually got paid take care of the dirty work.

“We should probably get out of here,” Rey said, eyeing the growing crowd of onlookers. “Unless you want to deal with this mess.”

“Nope,” Finn said. “Let's go. I need a bath.”

“Force! Rebel! Hey!”

Rey and Finn turned to see Poe pushing his way through the crowd, grinning like his birthday had come early. “That was great! Is that a new sword? Wait, is that _Skywalker’s_ saber?”

“Uh,” Finn said, frowning down at the sword. “Yes?”

Poe dug his recorder out of his pocket and switched it on. “Can you tell me how you came to possess that particular sword?”

“Skywalker gave it to me?” Finn said, uncertainly.

“Seriously?” Poe asked, eyes widening. “Why would Skywalker just hand over his saber? That thing is iconic.”

“Uh...”

“Aren't you supposed to be having breakfast with Finn?” Rey interrupted, somehow managing to both save Finn and damn him at the same time.

Poe's eyes widened and his face slowly fell. “Oh no.”

“Force,” Finn hissed as Poe sprinted back into the restaurant.

“What?” Rey folded her arms over her chest. “He ditched your date.”

“First of all, it wasn't a date. Secondly, I ditched him first.”

“Oh, right,” Rey said, sheepishly.

Poe reappeared with freakin’ _wounded puppy eyes_. “He's gone.”

“I'm sure he had something -- important to do,” Finn said, grimacing.

“He really hates creatures from the deep. They’re too slimy for him,” Rey said, earnestly. Finn twitched and shot her a dirty look. Who had just taken care of the ‘slimy creature of the deep’? Not Force, that was who.

Poe wrinkled his nose slightly at the street. “I don't blame him.” He sighed. “I didn't even get his number.

“I have it,” Finn said, because sometimes his mouth moved before his brain could give any input. “I mean, if you actually want it.”

“Do you?” Poe said, eyes lighting up. “Wait, but is that weird?” He paused, then gave a small roll of his eyes. “Never mind, everything about this is weird.” Still, he fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Finn, eyes hopeful.

Rey was silently laughing at him, _again_. He just wished she wouldn't project it at him.

* * *

The first time Poe met Rebel, it was because Poe was trying to score an interview with Phasma, and Phasma was one step away from shooting Poe’s head off.

“Look, all I'm asking is -- what type of training regimen do you put your Troopers through? Inquiring minds _deserve_ to know,” a dark haired reporter was saying, shoving a small recorder under Phasma’s helmet.

Phasma, who had just had her ass well and truly handed to her by a protective Rey and a vengeful Finn, was _so_ not willing to deal with the reporter’s bullshit. She turned to Finn and held out her shackled hands. “May I have my phaser back? It won’t take more than two seconds, I promise.”

“What about your disciplinary methods?” the reporter asked, voice silky like a blade. “I have a personal issue with those.”

“All right, come on,” Finn said, exasperated, and grabbed the reporter by the arm. Rey had warned him about them (“They’re annoying, but you _can’t_ kill them, okay?” she’d told him, very seriously. “Skywalker told me so.” This was why it probably wasn’t good that they were best friends -- _someone_ needed to be their moral compass, since they both clearly lacked one).

The reporter turned and smiled up at him, distracted. “Yeah, man, I just have one more question --”

Finn _maybe_ lost his head a bit when he realized that the reporter annoying Phasma was _Poe freakin’ Dameron_. Poe certainly seemed surprised when the masked newbie threw his arms around him and hugged him tightly.

He was _alive_. Finn thought for sure that after the accident, Poe had been recaptured by the First Order and tortured to death. It had messed Finn up pretty badly, thinking about the man he had almost saved, but who he had failed.

“Woah, okay there, buddy,” Poe said, but hugged him back, because he was Poe and Poe was ridiculous. He patted Finn on the back. “Not that I'm complaining about big, strong men hugging me, but...?”

Finn jerked back. Right. Poe had no idea who he was. Would he recognize his voice when Finn spoke again? He didn’t _know_ these things.

Finn clapped both of his hands on Poe's shoulders and gently moved him to the side, and then stalked up to Phasma. In a panicked moment of brilliance, he said, “Alright, you're coming with me,” in a perfect mimicry of Rey's accent.

“Oh thank god,” Phasma said, as Finn grabbed her by the arm.

And that was how Rebel became the mysterious superhero from across the pond, and Finn got saddled with a British accent every time he put on his mask.

Rey _still_ laughed at him about it, the unsympathetic arse.

* * *

It was odd, waiting for a phone call you weren't supposed to know was coming, but that didn't stop Finn from glancing down at his phone every ten minutes when they got back, until Rey yanked the it out of his hand with her mind.

“Hey!” Finn protested, making a grab for it. She held it over his head, just out of his reach.

“I can't take anymore,” Rey said, even though she’d been glued to the TV for the last forty minutes.

“Rey!” Finn snapped, lunging for it again. It zipped away. Finn narrowed his eyes, then grabbed the couch with one hand and hauled it over, spilling the her to the ground. She yelped and scrambled back to her feet, turning to him with a shocked glare.

Finn glared back.

BB-8 whirred in alarm and rolled into the kitchen.

Rey reached out one hand and Finn’s legs were abruptly yanked out from under him. He landed on his back, hard, then flung the coffee table at her. She caught it easily in midair, but was clobbered on the chest with the mug of cold coffee he’d followed it up with.

Rey gasped in outrage. She narrowed her eyes, and all the furniture in the room rattled, then jerkily lifted to the air. BB-8 squealed in protest as he was suddenly airborne, as well. Crap. Finn scrambled to his feet and took a hasty step back.

Above him, his phone rang.

For a second, neither of them moved. “Rey!” Finn said, warningly.

The phone wiggled and Rey’s furious glare melted into a really evil grin. “Say please.”

“ _Please_.”

The phone drifted within reach and he grabbed it, shooting her an ungrateful glare. She laughed and set all the furniture (and a chirping BB-8) back down. Finn cleared his throat and straightened his shirt.

Rey snorted. “He's not actually going to _see_ you, hotshot.”

Finn scowled at her and ducked into his room to answer. He accepted the call and said, “This is Finn,” and then winced at himself for being such a giant dork.

“ _Finn, buddy! I am so sorry for ditching you like today, that was unforgivably rude of me,_ ” Poe said, all in a rush.

Finn grinned, and then was abruptly glad he'd gone into his room. He could _feel_ how dopey his face was; Rey would never let him live it down if she saw it. “No, it's totally fine. You're a reporter, right? I get it. I'm sorry I left, I -- really don't like sea monsters.” Dammit.

“ _They are pretty gross,_ ” Poe said, sympathetically. “ _Hey, we didn't really get a chance to catch up. I was thinking, if you're free tomorrow night, we can try again? Maybe grab some drinks?”_

He sounded so damn hopeful that it made _Finn_ hope. “Sure, yeah. That'd be great.”

Poe blew out a breath. “ _Awesome. 9 o’clock at Bits & Brews?_”

“I'll see you there.”

Finn ended the call, tossing his phone onto his bed. Was this a date? It felt kind of like a date, but Finn was _so bad_ at picking up on these sorts of cues. He was pretty sure Poe was interested, but it wouldn't be the first time he totally misinterpreted a situation.

He turned to stare at his closet.

“Rey!” Finn shouted.

* * *

Finn got to Bits & Brews ten minutes before 9 the next day and spent the time he had to wait sending increasingly ridiculous texts to Rey, who was training with Skywalker for the weekend.

_stop Luke threatened to take my phone away again_

Finn grinned and looked up, just in time to see Poe strolling down the sidewalk, hands in the pockets of his brown leather jacket and watching Finn with a smile that made Finn's own grin soften. Yeah. If he wasn't in trouble before (for the last two years, if he was honest with himself), he definitely was now.

“Hi,” Poe said, when he got to Finn's side. “Were you waiting long?”

“Nah,” Finn said. For a moment they just smiled at each other, as if they hadn't had breakfast together just yesterday morning. Finn cleared his throat and jerked his thumb at the door. “Should we grab a table?”

“Right, yeah,” Poe said, raking his fingers through his hair.

The night was warm enough that they chose to sit outside at one of the fire pits, away from the rowdy crowd at the bar. They were on a couch that was more of a loveseat, and Finn was hyper aware of every tiny inch that separated their arms. Poe stretched his long legs out and rested his beer bottle on his knee. He looked -- content.

Finn probably looked a little smitten.

“To be honest, I don't drink that often,” Finn admitted, rolling his beer bottle between his hands.

“Yeah?” Poe asked, glancing at Finn with a small smile. “Don’t have a head for alcohol?”

“Opposite,” Finn admitted.

Poe looked interested. “Oh yeah? How much does it take to get you drunk?”

“Not sure. I’ve never been able to drink enough to actually feel anything.” The one time he and Rey tried to test how much it would take to get Finn tipsy, Rey had spent the night making cutlery whizz around their apartment and giggling quietly to herself, while Finn killed off his fourth bottle of wine and idly puzzled over late night infomercials. Rey had ended up passed out under the kitchen table, and was as surly as a wampa with a sore head the next morning.

“Is that a you thing or...?” Poe asked, the ever curious reporter. He trailed off, wincing. “Sorry, you don't have to answer that.”

“A me thing,” Finn said, grinning reassuringly. Actually, it was sort of nice to have someone normal already know one of his secrets. It saved him the trouble of debating whether or not he wanted to let them in on the loop (usually no). “I'm just good like that.”

Poe’s shoulders relaxed slightly and he leaned closer, grinning back. “Oh yeah? Anything else you're good at?”

“Oh tons,” Finn said, trying his hand at flirting, “I am _great_ at arm wrestling,” and majorly flubbing it.

Poe laughed and leaned back again, and Finn silently cursed himself. “Well, you know what I think?” Poe asked.

“What's that?”

“I think that sounds like a challenge. Let's get you drunk.”

* * *

As it turned out, Finn could get drunk. It just took _a lot_ of alcohol to get him there.

“Wow,” Poe said, leaning his elbow on Finn’s shoulder to examine the four empty bottles of whisky lined in a neat row by Finn’s feet. Poe was already a tactile guy when he was sober. When he was drunk, he was downright handsy. Not that Finn minded. At all. It was so being around Poe, though he wasn’t really sure if that was because of the alcohol. Finn didn’t think so. He _liked_ Poe. Poe was _great_.

“Are you drunk?” Poe asked.

Finn seriously considered the question, then decided, “Yes.”

“Awesome,” Poe said.

He wasn’t quite sure how they ended up at his and Rey’s apartment, twenty minutes after last call, just that Poe had spent the walk there a warm weight pressed up against his side, one arm slung low on his hips. He also wasn’t sure if Poe was walking Finn to his apartment, or if it was vice versa, just that he was pretty sure it was an important distinction.

Poe pulled away in front of the door, smiling muzzily at Finn. “So,” he said, eyelashes dipping lower.

Finn fisted his hands in the front Poe’s shirt and Poe’s back hit the wall. Poe let out a breathless laugh, hands flying up to grab at Finn’s shoulders, and his mouth was wet and warm and tasted like whisky and mint. Finn pressed up against him, sliding one thigh between his legs and Poe’s delighted laugh tumbled into these low, hungry noises, and he slid his hands up to cradle the back of Finn’s head.

“Oh thank God,” Poe said into Finn’s mouth. “I was worried you weren’t getting my signals, or that you weren’t interested --”

“You talk too much,” Finn grumbled, sliding one hand up and under Poe’s shirt and leaning in again to kiss him, hungrily.

“ _Hell_ ,” Poe groaned. “Come on -- does this place have a bed?”

“Of course it does,” Finn said, nuzzling at the soft skin behind Poe’s ear.

“Can we go to it? Now?”

That was an _excellent_ idea. Finn fumbled with the doorknob to his apartment; it would probably have been easier if he let go of Poe, but that wasn’t going to happen. Poe did this _thing_ with his tongue and the knob ripped out of the door. Finn didn’t care, because it meant that the door was open and they could stumble through the dark apartment. He dropped the knob onto the couch and smacked his shin into the coffee table, because Poe’s hands were _distracting_ , and Poe laughed, too loud.

“Here,” Finn said, reaching around Poe to open his bedroom door. Poe grinned at him, teeth glinting white in the dark, and crowded him into the room.

* * *

When Finn woke up the next morning, he realized two things:

1) drinking was a lot less fun the next morning and;

2) he had _no idea_ what happened last night after they got to the bed.

The side of his bed was empty, but rumpled; Poe had been there last night, but wasn’t there anymore. With a nervous swoop to his stomach, he lifted the sheets: his shirt was gone, but he was still in his jeans. He dropped his head back onto his pillow with a groan.

Poe must have snuck out before Finn woke up. Maybe he was embarrassed about the total failure Finn was the night before. He probably deleted Finn’s phone number as he slipped out the front door.

He sort of wanted to just curl up under his blankets for the rest of the day, but his mouth tasted like something died in it and standing in the shower until he felt like a real boy again sounded awesome. With thoughts of _water_ and _shower_ , Finn swung himself out of bed and unsteadily made his way to the kitchen.

He stopped in the hallway. Poe was sitting on the floor, crosslegged, with BB-8 beeping and whirring with a degree of excitement Finn hadn't heard before. Poe grinned when he saw Finn (although he seemed to be grinning more at his bare chest than his face).

“I was going to put on some coffee, but I got distracted by this little fella,” he said, swiping one hand over BB-8’s dome head. BB-8 beeped happily. “It says good morning.”

For a second Finn was too surprised to say anything. “You don't actually understand it,” Finn said, instead of, “you _stayed_.”

“Excuse you, I'll have you know I'm fluent in binary,” Poe said, with exaggerated offense. “I didn’t think BB astromechs were in production yet. How did you get your hands on one?”

“A friend has a friend,” Finn said, dropping onto the couch, before jumping up again. He grabbed the doorknob he’d sat on, confused, and then quickly shoved it between the cushions with a grimace. Rey was going to murder him.

Poe opened his mouth, probably to ask more questions, when BB-8 beeped and whirred insistently at him. “It says its gyroscope is out of whack,” Poe said, head cocked slightly to the side as he listened. “And that maybe your roommate -- I can’t quite get the name -- can fix it.”

BB-8 whooped in alarm when Finn suddenly leaped off the couch and swooped it up.

“What --” Poe said, eyes wide.

“I just remembered it needs to be charged,” Finn said, in a rushed explanation, and whisked it off into his bedroom.

BB-8 was beeping and whirring rapidly, protesting, and Finn set it gently on the bed. Finn crouched in front of him, gripping the side of his mattress. “I don’t actually understand what you’re saying, but I need you to listen to me,” Finn whispered, urgent. BB-8 quieted to a hum. “Poe doesn’t yet know about me and Rey being Rebel and Force, and I need you to promise me you won’t tell him.”

BB-8 beeped, accusing.

Finn shook his head. “It’s not just my secret to tell. Poe’s smart -- if he finds out I’m Rebel, he won’t need to connect too many dots to get to Force. Just -- not yet, okay? Beep twice for yes.”

BB-8 hummed thoughtfully, then beeped twice. Finn sighed with relief, then grinned at it and patted the top of its head. “Thanks, BB-8.”

“Is everything alright?” Poe asked, when Finn made his way back to the family room, BB-8 rolling unsteadily after him. He was in the kitchen, a glass of water in one hand. “I thought you were going to charge it.”

“My mistake, it’s already fully charged.”

BB-8 trundled up to Poe's side, bumping affectionately into his legs. Poe grinned down at it, rubbing the top of its head.

“I think it likes you better than it does me,” Finn said.

“That's because it has excellent taste,” Poe cooed. Finn snorted but didn't disagree, slipping behind Poe to get a glass for himself, when he was hit with a memory of Poe straddling him, pressing his shoulders down and into the bed, and grinning.

“You okay?” Poe asked, smiling a little.

“Uh,” Finn said. He’d kissed Poe. Sure, they’d both been completely wasted, but he’d _kissed Poe_. A _lot_.

Poe’s smile slipped. He raked his fingers through his hair and set his glass down on the counter. “Hey, so, I can g--”

“Have breakfast with me?” Finn blurted.

Poe looked surprised, but then he smiled, a wide, beautiful grin. “I'd like that.”

* * *

Finn wasn’t just Poe’s personal superhero, no matter what Rey and Mr. Solo said. So maybe he did whip out his mask whenever Poe managed to get himself into trouble, no matter how dangerous the situation was, but Finn liked to think he would do that for anyone who needed his help.

In fact, Finn wasn’t even the only superhero who saved Poe. Once, Poe had been betrayed by a source who had handed him over to a handful of Troopers. When Finn finally arrived -- out of breath and pissed (he’d been caught up in the most ridiculous argument between two rival gang members about whose territory a liquor store was on, which he solved by taking their weapons and sticking them on a roof) -- Poe was already rescued and was nursing a beer, and the beautiful superhero visiting from out of state was leaning on the bar next to him, grinning with all her perfect teeth.

“Uh,” Finn said, when he burst into the bar and found all the Troopers already down and out.

“Rebel!” Poe called, waving his beer cheerfully.

Rey didn’t believe in secret identities unless for herself and Finn, and she _really_ didn’t like when her territory was invaded. Karé Kun, aka Stiletto -- named for the knives she liked sticking in the necks of her enemies and not for her shoes, which were shiny black riding boots -- gave Finn a slow once over that made him straighten self-consciously.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the hero, here to save the day,” Karé teased, lighthearted. Finn bristled.

“I had it covered.” Finn folded his arms over his chest.

“I’m sure you did,” Karé said, casually wiping one of her blades with a napkin. “I just happened to be in the area and figured I’d step in before Mr. Dameron here was hurt.”

“Mr. Dameron,” Finn said, between clenched teeth, “wouldn’t have been hurt.”

“I’m sure the phaser pressed up against his head would have just left a flesh wound,” Karé said.

“Wow,” Poe said, watching their interaction avidly. “This is awesome.”

Karé grinned at Poe in response. “Well, handsome, I think I’ve overstayed my welcome. It’s too bad. I was so enjoying our little chat. Maybe I’ll see you again.” She turned her grin on Finn in response. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Rebel.”

“Bye, Stiletto,” Poe said, cheerfully. She wiggled her fingers at him, stepped over a fallen Trooper, and strolled out the door.

Poe quietly sipped her beer as Finn frowned disapprovingly around the bar. The least she could have done was clean up after herself. It was so inconsiderate, leaving behind fallen Troopers for someone else to drag out.

“Rebel,” Poe asked, slowly. “Are you jealous?”

Finn turned his disapproving glare on Poe, then stalked back out of the bar, cape dramatically swishing behind him.

* * *

“So?” Rey demanded, when they were in the middle of stopping a bank robbery, a day after his _actual_ date with Poe.

“I kissed him,” Finn blurted.

“You what?” Rey yelped.

“And he spent the night.”

“ _What?_ Oh, dammit.” In her distraction, one of the robbers had gotten loose and was lifting his phaser at Finn’s head. This was somewhat alarming, because Finn had his hands full with the two other bank robbers. He could always throw one at the robber to protect himself, but civilians were so sensitive about that kind of stuff.

“Force!”

“I got him, I got him, sorry,” Rey said, and the robber froze again. “How much longer until the cavalry arrives, anyway?”

“I give it ten more minutes,” Finn said.

Rey huffed in annoyance. She had many opinions about their local law enforcement, not all of them good.

“You didn’t actually put out on the first date, did you?” one of the robbers said, scandalized.

“Even if I did, that is none of your business,” Finn said.

“I’m just saying, man, you should probably play a _little_ hard to get,” the robber said.

“I am not taking advice from a guy who thought it was a good idea to rob a bank in the middle of the afternoon,” Finn huffed.

“Did you have sex with him?” Rey demanded.

“Force,” Finn said, strained.

 _Did you?_ Rey persisted, offline, because she was impatient and nosy.

 _No,_ Finn grumbled. _We got drunk and passed out after the kiss._

“What, really?” Rey asked, surprised. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

 _It took a lot of whisky,_ Finn admitted and then added, dreamily and without really meaning to, _Did you know he’s fluent in binary?_

 _Is that how he talked dirty to you?_ Rey asked, slyly.

Finn figured he walked into that one, but still he considered throwing one of the robbers at her in retaliation, especially when she started cackling and beeping at him in his head.


	3. Chapter 3

The first person Finn successfully saved was Rey. 

(Actually, she was the second, but Finn hadn't known Poe survived at the time.) 

It was two days after Finn had escaped from the First Order. He’d spent the days keeping to the alleys, terrified that a Trooper would spot him and take him back in, and the nights wandering the streets, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now. On the third night, his hazy daydream about a hot, juicy cheeseburger was rudely interrupted by somebody shouting.

“You think you can hustle me, girl?” 

There was a pretty girl in an alley between apartment complexes, holding a pipe and looking unimpressed, and surrounded by three mean looking men. One of them was right up in her face, a big, blond guy who was grinning like a dog baring his teeth.

“Hey!” Finn shouted, which appeared to startle the men, by the way they jumped guiltily.

“Stay out of this,” the blond man said. “We've only got business with the girl here.”

“Then you have business with me,” Finn said, hands on his hips.

“I'm going to kill him just for that line,” one of the thugs muttered, flipping out a knife. He was smaller than the others, and bald. Finn took a step back and the bald man laughed. He feinted forward and Finn stumbled another hasty step back. 

“Aw sweetheart, you scared? Don't worry, we'll treat you right,” the blond man said. He twitched his fingers and the bald guy grinned and lunged forward.

Finn slugged him so hard that he flew across the alley and into the side of the dumpster.

“What --”

“Holy shit!”

Finn sprang forward and grabbed the blond thug by the front of his shirt, grinning wildly into startled blue eyes. 

The fight was quick and violent, and ended with all three of the thugs groaning on the ground. These jokers had _nothing_ on the drones Finn had trained with as a Trooper. He stepped back and surveyed his handiwork, hands on his hips, then turned to the girl. “Are you okay?” 

She whacked him on the arm with her pipe.

“Ow!” Finn yelped, staggering back. 

“Like I'd need help from Trooper scum!” the girl shouted.

“What!” Finn yelped, staggering back. “I don't -- what are you talking about?”

“Don't lie to me, jackass! I can read your mind!”

Finn was tired, hungry, and really sad. So he stared at her, upset, and then turned around and ran away, back to the street.

“Hey!” the girl shouted, lunging after him.

“I'm _not_ a Trooper!” Finn shouted over his shoulder.

She hurled her pipe at him, and she had a really freaking great arm because the pipe tangled in his legs and he stumbled, nearly falling. She stalked up to him, holding out her hand, and the pipe flew up and smacked into her palm. Finn's eyes widened in alarm.

“Look, there's been a misunderstanding,” Finn said, holding his hands up in the universal there’s nothing to see here gesture.

The girl pointed her pipe threateningly at him.

Finn looked up. The building they were next to was roughly five stories tall. 

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you,” the girl demanded.

Finn jumped onto the roof.

He fumbled his landing and staggered forward a couple steps, bracing his hands on his knees. He needed sleep, soon. Failing that, he needed food. He sighed. So much for doing a good deed. It was just his luck the one person he’d tried to help was a _psychic_. 

A hand smacked onto the roof, and the girl’s face, furious, popped over the side.

“How -- how did you do that?” Finn asked, stumbling back.

The girl hauled herself over the ledge, glaring. “Excuse you, I think that’s my question. Who are you, and how did you jump like that?”

“Are you going to kill me?” Finn asked, suspiciously.

“That depends on your answer. And don't --” the girl pointed her pipe at him and glared, “-- even think about running again.”

Finn sighed, shoulders drooping. What the hell. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t read him like a book, anyway. “I'm a defector. I rescued a guy who'd been kidnapped and escaped from the First Order. The guy -- Poe -- he didn't make it.”

“And the jumping?”

“I have really strong legs?” Finn said. “I mean, _really_ strong. In fact, I'm kind of just really strong in general.”

The girl stared at him, considering. “You're telling the truth.” She tucked the pipe under her arm. “Come with me.”

“No?” Finn tried.

She scowled at him.

“Fine, alright. Can I at least get a name?” Finn grumbled, but dutifully followed her, anyway.

(She never did tell him her name. Luke was the one who said, with a small sigh, “Her name is Rey,” two hours later. 

She did warm up to him after he gave up the location of Starkiller hideout. In retrospect, that was probably the beginning of his problems.)

* * *

The thing was, Rey's opinion was important. She'd somehow went from hurling pipes at him to becoming his entire family. Sure, they had the Big Three, but in terms of immediate family, it was Finn and Rey, and now BB-8. It was a big deal, asking Poe to dinner at their place.

(It went both ways. Once, Rey had brought home a man she'd been seeing. She had been so excited about him that Finn made sure not to say -- or think -- that the guy was a fucking bag of dicks and that Rey could do about a hundred thousand times better. 

The guy never made a second appearance. Neither of them mentioned him again.)

“Okay,” Finn said, eyeing the small two seater kitchen table critically. He’d had to pull up their computer chair for a third seat and a box for BB-8, but it wasn’t _too_ bad. “Remember: _no_ embarrassing stories about me -- if you even mention the name Todd, we’re leaving.”

“I refuse to take responsibility for what happened with Todd,” Rey protested, picking up BB-8 and putting him on the box. “He seemed perfect for you.”

“He was married!” Finn protested, because this was the argument that never died. 

“For the millionth time, I had no idea,” Rey said, exasperated.

“You told him I was new in town and needed a friend. He had no idea it was a blind date!”

Rey pressed her lips together, which meant she was trying not to laugh at him, the hag. Finn glared at her and stomped back to the stove to check the pasta. He was being a spaz, but he _really_ wanted them to like each other.

“You do realize that I already know him, right?” Rey asked. “As Force, yeah, but I know him enough to have already decided I like him.”

Finn frowned at her. He never closed her out, she was _Rey_ , but she’d promised not to go snooping around without his permission.

“Before you complain at me for reading your mind, you’re practically shouting at me in my head,” Rey said.

“I’m just nervous,” Finn admitted, turning off the stove.

Rey gave him the soft look that meant she thought he was being adorable. He balled up the dish towel and threw it at her head. She waved her hand and it landed on top of BB-8, who warbled in surprise.

“So this is pretty serious, then,” Rey said.

“Yeah,” Finn said, grabbing the towel from off of BB-8’s head with an apologetic smile. It whirred affectionately at him.

“Like, ‘hi, I’m Rebel’ serious?”

“I -- “ he trailed off, then meticulously folded the towel, not looking at her. Neither of them had been in a relationship that had progressed to the big reveal, but -- 

Rey was silent, and when Finn looked back up at her, he couldn’t read her expression. But she didn’t look like she disapproved. Then she grinned, sudden and brilliant. “I better be best woman at your wedding.”

“Ugh, shut up,” Finn said, throwing the towel again, even though it had already been a pointless attack.

Rey sent it flying back into his face.

* * *

Finn shouldn’t have worried.

Rey opened the door to a smiling Poe ten minutes later, and he held up a bottle and a bag from the local bakery and said, “I brought wine and cake.”

“Are you bribing me?” Rey asked.

“Yes,” Poe grinned, unapologetic.

“It worked,” Rey said, taking the cake and grinning back at him. 

Finn snorted and pushed past Rey so that _he_ could smile dopily at -- his boyfriend. That would probably never get old. “Thanks for coming by.”

“Of course,” Poe said, smiling and running his fingers through his hair, the only sign that he wasn't completely cool.

Poe and Rey got along like siblings separated at birth. Poe’s effortless charm combined with Rey’s no nonsense attitude somehow worked perfectly together. Then again, Poe could probably charm a wampa, if he smiled at it for long enough.

Of course, Poe also had an unknowing arsenal at his disposal. It was when they were swapping stories over the crumbly and seriously awesome coffee crunch cake that Poe told one of the few stories Finn had purposefully kept from Rey.

“ --and that’s when I heard the click of the emergency door shutting behind me, and I just _knew_ it was locked. So that’s how Rebel had to rescue me, on top of the Calrissian Luxury Resort, while I was in nothing but my underwear,” Poe lifted his glass of wine to his lips, but paused before taking a sip. “I never even got to explain to him how that happened.”

Rey was laughing into her hands. Finn had his face in his hands for an entirely different reason. He remembered that day. 

“I think he was mad at me,” Poe mused. “He didn’t say one word the whole time.”

“I bet!” Rey crowed, wiping the corners of her eyes. 

BB-8 then launched into its own story, beeping and whooping excitedly, even though only one in its audience was listening with interest, while the other two were just watching him, puzzled.

_I like him,_ Rey projected to Finn, scooping another bite of cake onto her fork while Poe laughed and patted the top of BB-8’s head affectionately. _You were already aware, but I’m fond of him as Rey, too, not just Force._

Finn flashed a grateful smile at her.

_I can’t_ believe _you didn’t tell me you rescued Poe in his pants, though._

“Shut up,” Finn hissed. When Poe and BB-8 looked at him, he cleared his throat and said. “I mean -- Rey.”

Rey laughed at him, with her mind.

Rey left after dessert, citing some excuse that she had to visit the Solos that evening. She didn’t, and Finn hadn’t appreciated the mental catcall she’d projected at him when she’d walked out, BB-8 happily trailing after her. 

“She’s wonderful,” Poe said, stacking the plates and carrying them to the sink. “I can see why you care so deeply for her.”

“She’s my entire family wrapped in one small package,” Finn admitted. “I’m glad you guys got along.”

Poe set the plates in the sink, then turned around and leaned against the counter, smiling fondly at him. Finn slung the dishrag over his shoulder and stepped in, and Poe grabbed him by the front of his shirt to haul him closer for a kiss, swallowing down his startled laugh.

“Spend the night?” Finn asked, against Poe’s lips.

Poe went very still and Finn pulled back slightly, uncertain, and -- _fuck_ , Poe was staring at him, eyes dark and lips slightly parted, and Finn felt a bit like he was on a rollercoaster, going over that first drop.

“Yeah,” Poe said, low.

* * *

A year ago, after a particularly ugly fight with a handful of Troopers, Finn was dragging himself home, beaten and bloody, when a disheveled head popped over the roof of the Calrissian Luxury Resort and Poe hissed, low, but in a voice that carried, “Rebel! Hey, Rebel!”

Finn stopped and looked up, tiredly. Poe waved both his hands at him. “Hi! If you aren’t too busy, I could really use a hand.”

“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” Finn called back, long suffering.

“That’s a long story,” Poe said, laughing nervously. “Well? Will you help?”

Finn kind of didn’t want to; how much trouble could Poe really get into at a luxury resort? But there was a desperate edge to Poe’s normally cocky smile, so Finn sighed and leaped onto the roof. He tripped over nothing at all and stumbled forward several steps, eyes wide. Poe was in nothing but boxers. Black silk clung to strong thighs, and -- Finn snapped his gaze back up.

“What -- where are your _pants_?” Finn demanded.

“Um,” Poe said, looking over his shoulder. “I’ll tell you later. I think we should probably get moving. Quickly.”

Finn pressed his lips together and looked back over the edge of the building, briefly entertaining the idea of just leaving him there. He was tired, and he was pretty sure he was bleeding from three or four injuries. But Poe was staring at him hopefully, and Finn really was kind of a dumbass when it came to Poe. 

“Hey,” Poe said, concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Finn said, then quickly slid an arm around Poe’s bare waist, hyper aware of warm, firm, and mostly naked body pressed against his side.

“Thanks,” Poe exhaled, wrapping his arms around Finn’s shoulders.

Finn spent the entire rescue really hating that his spandex hid _absolutely nothing_.

(That was also the day that Finn’s hazy, celebrity crush on Poe became an actual _thing_.)

* * *

Finn strolled down the stairs of his apartment complex, hands in his pockets and whistling something he'd heard on the radio with the disgusting amount of cheerfulness that had Rey smirking at him knowingly most nights. He stopped at the corner of 5th and Monument, cocking his head to the side, and then ducked down a small alley and pulled his cellphone out of his back pocket.

_might be a little late_

He dropped his phone back into his pocket and waited, hands in his pockets. A minute later, a guy wearing a ski mask darted around the corner.

“What are you doing,” Finn sighed. Their apartment wasn't in the best part of town, but it wasn't in the worst, and it was weird that someone would try to mug him in broad daylight.

The guy stopped and looked uncertainly down at the phaser he had pointed at Finn's stomach. “I'm here to capture you?”

Finn eyed him, unimpressed. He was several inches shorter than Finn and looked scrawny under his black coat. Finn didn't think he was more than 19 or 20.

“Okay,” Finn said, nodding. “Come get me.”

His kidnapper paused, then hesitantly lifted his phaser to Finn's chest. Finn lunged forward and slammed into him, grabbing the phaser with one hand and hauling him up with the other.

“Woah, woah!” the guy yelped, lifting both hands in a panic. “Be cool, man, it was just a joke!”

Finn shoved the guy against the wall. “Hilarious,” he said, flatly. “ _Why_ are you trying to capture me?”

The guy flinched back, smacking his head against the wall. “Look, my mom’s sick and I just needed the extra money and --” he said, brown eyes wide while he stuttered out his sob story.

“I'm crying on the inside,” Finn said, dryly. (A year ago, he’d heard a similar story: “My kid’s sick, man, I don't actually want to rob this bank!” He'd felt bad and let the man go, only to get shot on the arm for his efforts.) “How is capturing me going to get you money?”

The guy stared at Finn, scared and, weirdly, confused. “Dude, you don't know?”

Finn gritted his teeth. Lord preserve him. “Pretend like I'm completely in the dark.”

“Um, you have a bounty on your head?” The guy said, voice ticking up at the end.

“What,” Finn said, flatly.

“For forty gs.”

Finn dropped the kid and stepped back. He could understand someone putting a bounty on Rebel’s head, but why would anyone want _him_? Ever since he escaped from the First Order, Finn had very carefully crafted himself to be a nobody.

“Um, can I have my phaser back?”

Finn looked at the kid in disbelief.

“It's just, it kind of cost a lot and -- right, okay, never mind, forget I asked. No hard feelings, right?”

“Get out of here,” Finn said.

“Right!” the guy said, scampering away.

“So,” said Finn, dropping across from Poe at the small deli they’d agreed to meet at for lunch. “What do you know about bounties?”

“Monetary rewards to catch someone for an organization,” Poe said, sliding a cheeseburger over, and _this_ was why Finn had to keep Poe. “Why? Someone put a bounty on you?” he added, teasing.

“Yes,” Finn said, biting into the burger.

“Wait, what?” Poe said, alarmed.

“Someone attacked me when I was walking here --”

“ _What?_ ” Poe demanded, loudly, shoving to his feet.

“Relax, I'm fine. He didn't have a chance to shoot me --”

“He tried to _shoot you_?” 

The few people at the restaurant were watching with interest and Finn quickly reached over to clamp a hand on Poe’s shoulder, pressing him down. Poe stared at him, surprised, but settled back into his chair, and Finn dropped his hand again.

“It is weird though,” Finn said, stealing one of Poe's fries. “What do they want with me? I'm nobody.”

“You aren't,” Poe protested.

“I am. I made sure I was. I’ve always kept a low profile because I didn't want anyone to connect me to FN-21..." He trailed off and slowly put his cheeseburger down, staring at Poe. Poe stared back, and then his eyes widened.

“Oh no,” Poe said, guiltily.

* * *

“We are _not_ breaking up.”

“I'm not saying we should break up,” Poe said, frustrated, and yanked off his jacket. They'd went back to Poe's place to continue their argument; the staff hadn't appreciated when their hushed conversation devolved into a heated shouting match when Poe suggested it might be safer for Finn if they didn't hang out as much. “But you're in danger. Because of me. And you'll continue to be in danger when you're around me.”

Finn scoffed, loud and rude, and folded his arms over his chest. That was such crap. Just that afternoon, he and Rey took on a nexu that was _eating_ hikers on the trails just outside of town. “I'm not worried about bounty hunters.”

“You should be,” Poe snapped, throwing his jacket onto the couch. “All I'm saying is, maybe we should stay away from popular places for awhile. Stay in instead of eating out.”

“I’m not going underground because I have a small bounty on my head --”

“Since when is forty grand small?”

Finn stopped and took a deep breath. “I'm not going to go into hiding, Poe, so I don't know why we're still arguing about this. They've figured out who I am. Big deal. It was always a risk staying in this city.”

“How did they even recognize you, anyway? Haven’t you been out for two years?”

Finn shrugged, uncomfortable. “I grew up there. People knew me -- knew what I looked like, without a mask.”

Poe sighed and leaned against the arm of his couch, raking his fingers through his hair, a nervous gesture, Finn realized. “I’m sorry, Finn. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

The sentiment was sweet, if pointless. Not that Poe knew that. Finn crossed the room and grabbed Poe by the shoulders, looking him in the eye. “I’m a tough guy. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Pretty sure that’s impossible,” Poe muttered, but slid his arms around Finn’s waist. “I _still_ think you should lay low.”

“Not going to happen.”

“What about a disguise? Thick black framed glasses,” Poe said, and he was teasing now, but Finn's gripped Poe's shoulders tight, guilty.

“What's up?” Poe asked, with a puzzled smile.

“I was just thinking about how awesome I would look in glasses,” Finn said, blithely, and once again didn't say anything about his actual disguise.

Poe snorted and leaned in to kiss him, gently. “Come on. Let's go to bed.”

Much later, sprawled out on Poe's kingsized bed and with Poe curled up beside him, his nose pressed against Finn's bare shoulder and black curls tickling under his jaw, Finn stared up at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep for a long time.

* * *

“Do you know how we haven't seen each other for two years? Well, actually, we sort of have, only it was more like I saw you and you didn't really see me.”

BB-8 whirred dubiously at him and Finn groaned.

“Yeah, wow. That sounded -- majorly creepy.”

BB-8 bumped down the stairs, beeping continuously at Finn in what could have been a lecture, for all Finn knew. He really needed to learn binary. 

Now that they’d fixed BB-8’s gyroscope, it seemed cruel to leave him holed up in their tiny two bedroom. He was -- literally -- zooming up the walls in his excitement, only to drop with a noisy _whump!_ when gravity became too much. Nightly walks were now a thing.

“How about -- ‘You know how you were worried about me because of the bounty hunters? Well, guess what!’”

BB-8 let out a long, disbelieving beep, and turned down the street that would take them to the small park with a playground.

“You’re right,” Finn groaned, although he had no idea what BB-8 had said. He could guess, though. 

The problem was, he'd never told anyone about Rebel. His social circle pretty much consisted of Rey and the Big Three, and they were the ones who actually got him into the business. He didn't know how to drop his day job casually into conversation, and he could think of at least ten reasons why he should _not_.

BB-8 warbled happily when they got to the park, zooming over to the metal slide and rolling up it, only to slide back down again with an excited whoop. Finn would let it zip around for an hour or so to tire it out (though he wasn't really sure how that worked, actually, since BB-8 ran on battery power) before heading back to the apartment. 

He tilted his head back, staring at the handful of stars bright enough to sparkle through the light pollution.

“Hi,” he said, “I'm Re --”

BB-8 made an alarmed noise and Finn sat quickly back up. The little robot was hurtling towards him, but he was still far away and --

A light mist sprayed onto Finn's face. Finn coughed in surprise and staggered to his feet. The world swayed and tipped, and then everything went dark.

* * *

Finn’s vision refocused in stages: fuzzy blobs, first, that gradually formed into solid shapes. He was tied to a chair in the middle of a mostly bare room. There was a naked light bulb dangling over his head, on. One wall was lined with -- crates, damn. 

He groaned. This was really fantastic.

Finn had been captured a few times as Rebel, but never as _Finn_ , and he wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do. He tested the rope around his wrists. It was tight, but nothing he wouldn't be able to break. Snapping the ropes and crashing through a wall was probably a bad idea. And he still felt a little woozy from whatever they used to knock him out, so fighting his way out wasn't a likely option, either.

Things were looking bad.

It got marginally worse when there was a loud explosion outside and the entire building rocked violently to the side. Feet thundered just outside the door to the room he was in, muffled voices shouting at each other in alarm.

“Psst! Finn!”

“ _Poe?_ ” Finn looked around in disbelief. He didn't see the familiar dark head, but he would recognize that voice blindfolded (and _there_ was an entirely inappropriate thought for the situation).

“Up here.”

Finn tilted his head back. Poe grinned and waved at him from the vent. 

“What are you doing up there?” Finn asked. “And what the hell was that noise?”

“I’m here to rescue you, and I exploded a car,” Poe said. “Hold on a second.”

He disappeared from view as Finn tried to wrap his mind around _that_ piece of information, and a moment later there was a grating sound as the vent was removed. Poe hung off the edge, then dropped softly down.

“Are you okay?” Poe asked as he hurried to Finn’s side. He crouched in front of him, checking his face for any injuries.

“I’m fine,” Finn assured. “How did you find me?”

Poe ducked behind him to start on the ropes with a small knife. “We had a date tonight, remember? When I went to pick you up, BB-8 was rolling around in front of your apartment in a panic. It told me you were grabbed by a group of Troopers. I figured I'd try here first -- you know, this was where they brought me when I was kidnapped?” 

“Oh, really?” Finn said, weakly.

“Yep! If you weren't here, I would have just shouted for Rebel. He’s pretty reliable.”

The irony wasn't lost on Finn. He snorted.

“Don’t worry, though, I'm an old hand at this whole kidnapping business,” Poe said, flippantly. “We don’t have a lot of time, though. The car won’t distract them for long.”

“How the hell did you blow up a car?” Finn asked, impressed.

Poe leaned forward to grin slyly at him, but didn't answer. There was the sound of feet pounding just outside the door and Poe's hands froze on the rope.

“It's fine, I can get it from here,” Finn hissed. “Hide!”

“Yeah, no,” Poe said. It was like he _looked_ for trouble. Finn snapped the ropes and leapt to his feet and Poe drew a phaser and fired four rounds just as Kylo freakin’ Ren stormed into the room, a red sword gripped tightly in his hand. 

The first shot struck Kylo Ren on his shoulder, and he jerked back a step, but the next three shots he _swatted away_. Like they were _bugs_.

“Uh,” Poe said.

“Oh shit,” Finn said.

Kylo jerked his hand to the side and they flew back, hitting the wall, hard.

Apparently, Kylo Ren was a goddamn telekinetic.

How they spent two years at war with with the First Order without ever realizing that was -- kind of embarrassing, actually. Then again, Kylo Ren didn’t exactly put himself out on the front lines with the rest of the Troopers; before Finn escaped from the First Order, he’d maybe seen the man two dozen times total, and after, even less. It was the Troopers who did his dirty work while he wreaked havoc from the safety of his hideouts. The tactical part of Finn’s brain thought that was a waste.

“I should have known,” Kylo Ren said, strolling up to Poe. “Of course you would try to rescue your little boyfriend.” Kylo Ren's lip curled. “How touching.”

“Fuck off,” Poe said, lips pulling back in a tight grin. His head snapped back and cracked against the wall, hard.

“Poe!” Finn shouted.

“And you,” Kylo Ren said, turning on Finn. “We have waited a long time to get rid of you.”

No way was he going to get killed by this asshole. Finn strained against the force holding him against the wall. His bones creaked and he pushed forward one small step. Kylo Ren lifted his gloved hand at Finn. Energy shoved at him, thick and heavy, but Finn gritted his teeth and continued forward. 

“How are you doing that?” Kylo Ren demanded.

Finn couldn't answer verbally, so he wrestled his arm up and flipped Kylo Ren off.

Kylo Ren lowered his head and Finn slid back, his heel hitting the wall. Blood trickled out of his nose and into the corner of his mouth, but he pressed forward another step. The barrier of energy bent around him and Finn grinned. This asshole had nothing on Rey. 

“Stop,” Kylo Ren said, between gritted teeth.

But Finn had picked up momentum, and he ducked his head, shoving forward like someone barreling through a wind storm. He gritted his teeth _pushed_ with all his strength, and the barrier buckled and shattered around him. Kylo Ren staggered back a step and Finn shot forward, slamming his shoulder into his sternum. 

The room actually trembled. Kylo Ren slashed out with his sword and Finn dove out of the way, crouching down to scramble at the ankle holster where he kept Luke’s saber. It didn't want to unclasp. Kylo Ren swung out, the blade slicing through Finn's jacket and into his arm, and Finn just ripped the whole holster off. The saber flashed out, through the holster, just as Kylo Ren brought his own sword down. 

Kylo Ren drew back, actually stumbling a little. “ _You_.”

Finn gripped the sword with both of his hands. It had been too much to hope for anonymity; Poe’s article speculating about Rebel with Skywalker’s sword had been all over the news for days.

“Oh,” Poe said, on a breath.

Finn chanced a look at him and almost wished he hadn’t. Poe’s eyes were wide and stunned. He turned quickly back to Kylo Ren, holding the sword up. 

“That sword --” Kylo Ren said, still stunned, and then he lunged at Finn, shouting, “Traitor!”

Finn was strong, but Kylo Ren was quicker, and struck Finn on his chest. And then, because he was a total dick, he followed it up with a rough kick with his shiny black boot. Finn doubled over, grabbing his chest with one hand.

This was bad. 

When Finn was still a Trooper, One of his -- associates (not friend; Finn hadn’t known what a friend was until Poe had looked at him and said, “I'll call you Finn,” or until the first time Rey smiled at him, bright and beautiful) had done something to piss off Kylo Ren. He wasn’t seen again, but there had been whispers about how Kylo Ren had “lost his temper.” People were careful around Kylo Ren, after that.

“Finn!” Poe shouted. “You son of a bitch --”

For a confused moment, Finn thought Poe meant him, but he didn't think that was right. Maybe it was -- Poe probably hadn't liked finding out his boyfriend was a caped crusader like this. Finn would need to apologize, when his vision wasn’t blotting out.

This was _really_ bad.

Kylo Ren slammed his sword down and Luke's blade flew out of Finn's hand. He loomed over Finn, breathing quickly through the modulator. Finn didn’t know what Kylo Ren looked like -- nobody did -- but he imagined the man was smiling as he raised his sword. 

And then it flew out of his hands, backwards, as if he had lost his grip. 

It was kind of funny. Finn might have laughed, if he wasn't sinking to his knees. He wished he could see the look of surprise on Kylo Ren's face -- he bet it was gold.

“Finn!” Poe shouted again. There was a flash of red from a phaser just as the doors flew open and Force charged in. Kylo Ren whirled around and Rey flung her hand out. He staggered back one step, then turned around and sprinted away, black cape billowing out behind him.

“Finn!” Rey shouted, running to his side and dropping to her knees.

“Kylo Ren knows,” Finn said, desperately.

Rey gripped his arm tightly, turning back towards the door. “Damn, I should --”

“Rey,” Poe said, in wonder.

Rey actually dropped Finn, which fucking hurt. She whirled on Poe, who was staring back at her, stunned. “Oh, _shit_.”

“I am such an idiot,” Poe said, eyes wide. “How the hell didn't I see it before? It's so obvious.”

Over the years, Finn’s life had shattered and reformed itself multiple times. First, after he'd escaped from the First Order with a dark haired reporter. Then when he met Rey and the Big Three. Then again when he'd first donned his mask and called himself Rebel. Now he could feel it fragmenting again, while bleeding out in the middle of a dirty warehouse, with Kylo Ren sprinting off into the sunset, Finn’s secret identity in his back pocket.

“Escape now, identity crisis later,” Rey said, urgently. She hauled Finn back to his feet, ignoring his pained yelp. “We've got to move. There are about twenty Troopers on their way. Let's _go_.”

* * *

“Ow. _Ow_.”

“Quit complaining,” Rey said, which was rich, since she was sitting on the other side of the room, chair flipped around, and with her arms folded over the backrest. _She_ wasn’t the one getting her chest stitched up without any anesthetic. 

Dr. Kaloni knotted the suture and stepped back, pulling off her latex gloves. It was a little weird, getting sewn up with his mask still on, but even though Dr. Kaloni had been tending to superheroes for years, she preferred to remain in the dark when it came to secret identities. “With your elevated healing abilities, you should be back on your feet in a week. _Please_ keep the spandex off until then.

“Of course,” Finn said, earnestly.

“‘Of course,’ he says. That’ll be the day,” Dr. Kaloni muttered. She nodded at Rey, then stepped out of the room.

Finn sighed and carefully settled back onto the bed, pulling off his mask and tossing it to the foot of his bed. 

“How did you know where I was, anyway?” Finn asked.

Rey fished something out of her pocket, then floated it towards Finn. He grabbed it from midair and uncrumpled the small yellow sticky note. 

FINN KIDNAPPED.  
CHECKING WAREHOUSE.  
POE

“He stuck it to BB-8’s head,” Rey said.

“Oh my god.”

“I wonder if he knows BB-8 has a recording device.”

Finn crumpled the note again and sighed. “On a scale of one to totally fucked, how bad is it?”

“Three, maybe,” Rey said. At Finn’s disbelieving look, Rey shrugged. “There was always a risk of them finding out who we are. But I mean, we don’t even have last names and our family consists of each other, a handful of retired superheroes, and a faulty droid. I’m not too worried about it.”

“What about Poe?” Finn asked.

Rey chewed on her lower lip. “That’s the three.”

“He’s going to dump me for sure,” Finn groaned.

Rey pushed herself out of her chair walked across the room to drop a kiss on top of his head. “Give him a little more credit than that.”

Finn drifted off after that, and when he woke up again, Poe was standing at the foot of his bed, holding Rebel’s mask between both his hands. Instinctively, Finn sat up, which was a _really_ bad idea. Poe jerked forward, dropping the mask to the floor.

“Careful!” Poe said, sitting on the side of the side of the bed and placing one hand on Finn's bare shoulder. He looked worn out, like he hadn't even gone home to change before rushing to Finn and Rey's apartment. “You look like hell.”

“I've felt better,” Finn admitted.

“Have they given you anything? For the pain?”

“Painkillers don't really work on me,” Finn said, allowing himself to be pushed back down, onto the bed. “Sort of like alcohol.”

Poe looked away and Finn winced again, though this time not from pain. Crap. Well, might as well finally give the tell-all Poe’s been coveting for so long.

“I'm sorry,” Finn said, quickly. “I was going to tell you, I swear. I just -- didn't know how. And I can't even begin to apologize for putting you in even more danger by knowing my secret identity. And --” Finn took a deep breath, “I would understand if you never wanted to see me again,” he lied. Well, he would understand, but he wouldn’t be okay with it.

“I'm not going to lie -- it's going to be an adjustment period,” Poe said, less grim than Finn probably deserved. “But Finn, I love you, and I'm not going to run off now that I know your weekend gear involves more spandex than I'd expected. It's going to take some getting used to. And-- “ he said, when he caught a glimpse of Finn's expression, which must have been something, “-- we haven't actually said that yet, shit.”

“No,” said Finn, slowly.

“The point is,” Poe continued, determined. “I don't know how you’ve missed it, but I don’t actually have any common sense when it comes to danger. Or when it comes to you, for that matter,” he added as an afterthought.

Finn carefully pushed himself back up, then grabbed Poe and yanked him back down on the bed, careful not to do either of them additional injury.

“You mean, you don’t have any common sense, period,” Finn said.

“I clearly have the most sense between the two of us,” Poe muttered.

“That is such a lie.”

“I don’t know how you thought it was a good idea to not only stay in the city the First Order was in, but to also become a _superhero_ \--”

“Hey,” Finn interrupted, face hurting from the force of his grin.

“What?”

“I love you, too.”


End file.
